


Heart in the crush

by kinpika



Category: DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, The Flash (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Birdflash - Freeform, Bludhaven Police Force, Developing Relationship, Finding Family, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Relationship Problems, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, There’s no word yet for old friends who have just met, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving to Gotham for rehabilitation? Fine. His parents deciding that when he's nearly thirty they can force themselves back into his life? Cool. Quite potentially going into surgery with a very low success rate? Wally can handle it. He can handle nearly anything - he's <i>Wally West</i>, after all!</p><p>Strangers in sunglasses hanging out a bus stops at night, laughing at his bad jokes? Telling him that superheroes were indeed "pretty cool", and making his life a whole lot more bearable? No, this is something Wally was sure he was never equipped for.</p><p><i>I don't mean to seem disrespectful, officer. But god damn. I want like three of you.</i><br/><i>And I will respect you all at once. At my house.</i><br/>- A Softer World, 482</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking content from lots of the comics, not just the YJ animation. 90s YJ and early 00s Teen Titans plus of course throwbacks to the 60s, because this is supposed to be following Wally and Dick. This is an all-human, totally normal AU. Well, mostly normal, at least (the only superheroes in this story that exist are the ones in the comics).

Wally had tried to argue, but arguing with Artemis was like fighting a brick wall with admittedly good hair. Artemis had not budged for a good week on the topic, and since subtly was not her strongest point, Wally had been subjected to the questioning at least every five minutes when they had fallen into a mostly comfortable silence. Any other time of the year, he might have felt something other than mild annoyance. God, Wally had never thought he’d live to see the day where Artemis’ mere online presence annoyed the shit out of him.

“No,” he repeats, not that she could hear him anyway. She had resorted to online messaging; Artemis was learning fast. Typing out his words again, and again — once more just for good measure — he shifted uncomfortably, then let his phone drop onto the floor. 

Fingers twitch, and he grimaced as he slid to reach for it. _Of course_ it rolled under the couch. How it managed to do that was beyond Wally, and palms planted on the floor, he struggled for a moment too long. He heard the approach of his aunt before he saw her out the corner of his eye, but he just couldn’t force himself to push up, and didn’t utter a word as she let out a cry.

Fussing. Wally wouldn’t get used to the fussing. Iris was fussing more than usual, and he really struggled not to look her in the eye, not when she looked close to tears every waking moment. “I’m fine,” Wally mumbles, but she doesn’t hear him. Pushes him back on the couch, covers his legs with a blanket, even though it was still far too hot outside, and rests her hand on his chest a moment too long. 

“Aunt Iris, come on, it’s not that bad.” 

All he gets is a watery smile, and she says something about lemonade. Wally doesn’t follow, turns his head to watch her leave, until her back disappears around the corner. Gone. Digging through the couch for the remote, Wally turns it up a fraction louder than he should’ve, only because he heard the sniffling from the kitchen. Whether it was for his benefit or hers, he wouldn’t know. Both of them, maybe, but Wally wasn’t sure this was something that went both ways.

There is nothing on the tv apart from an odd report about a hit and run, some award, a mention of some high profile celebrity at some university thing. Flicking through, Wally finds a daytime movie about cowboys, another one about guys in lycra fighting aliens, and the last about jewellery. Maybe, Wally wasn’t too sure. After all, Wally he listening about a third of the way through, if only because he heard the door unlock. 

Bart was staying with them, because his dad was out of town. They hadn’t spoken at all, because Bart was up at some ungodly hour to commute to school, to get through all that ridiculous traffic in Gotham. Wally missed Central City, if he thought about it. Nice and quiet, all his friends were there, and he had his old room. He doesn’t realised he’s pulled a thread out of a pillow cover until it’s too late. For half a minute, he considers owning up. Bart talks, and he tucks the pillow behind himself.

“Hey Iris! Hey Wally!”

Noting the totally fake chipper thing Bart had going on, Wally just raises a hand in recognition, and pretends he’s invested in watching some guy do the splits on screen. If his own balls could scream, they might’ve watching this dude. That looked like it was totally unnecessary, and Wally couldn’t help the snort when the guy finally got a fist to the gut. Stupid damn heroes, never thinking before jumping.

“How was school?” he hears Iris ask, and it’s all white noise. School was boring to talk about. Wally did let himself think of his science degree, but that disappeared into the background as well. Scratches at his legs for something to do. Throws the blanket off and notes how his skin was a little too red from the attention of his nails, and huffed.

His phone buzzes again. Artemis was driving to their house. Wally couldn’t get a girl to interpret a ‘no’ as ‘yes’ all his life and then he meets this girl. When they had first met, Wally had asked where she had been all his life. She had walked out on him, and he laughs about it now. At the time it had been a slightly tender spot, but he had grown up since then, he was sure.

 

>> don’t you dare

<< coming whether u want me 2 or not

>> say that any other time

<< disgusting

>> stop texting and driving

 

He wasn’t even dressed for any occasions that involved leaving the house. Not that he wanted to. Bart still hadn’t come over to where he was currently curled up on the couch, and Wally kind of missed how Bart used to clamour over him to tell him _all_ about his day at school.

“Hey, Bart, got a minute?” Yeah, the kid thought he could sneak upstairs. Wrong. 

“S-sure…”

Wally had enough left in him to get offended at the hesitance. He wasn’t going to _bite_ him! Frustration at being holed up was getting to him, and not slowly. Maybe it showed on his face, with how Bart suddenly flinched, and backed up just a little. Between Iris treating him like glass, Bart avoiding him and Artemis bothering the shit out of him, Wally was starting to feel something other than nothing. Don’t even get him started on Barry, either.

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Uh, no?”

“Good. Get my chair for me. Artemis will be here any minute.”

Bart doesn’t even question him, and Wally takes it as a small blessing. Just leans over to push the coffee table out the way, catching himself on the end of the couch as Bart unfolds his chair. Soon, he’ll be out of the damn thing. Wally has to keep telling himself that. Bart holds it steady, as with some manoeuvring has him finally seated, hands a little too sweaty as he readjusts his legs. Ah, shoes. Would Artemis forgive him if he forgot shoes?

“I’ll get you socks.” Damn. Bart runs off before he can say anything, and Wally doesn’t bother calling him back.

Slowly, he pushes to turn. Their new house was only a fraction bigger, and it was only because of the chair. But, it was still too tight of a squeeze between chair and table, and the knock against the table is a dead giveaway. “Aunt Iris, we’re going out for a bit.”

“Are you sure? Do you need me to drop you off?” Iris is nothing but worry and wringing her hands, Wally notes an attempt from pushing him along. 

Shaking his head, he simply rocks back and forth. His shirt is at least three days old, and his shorts are in dire need of a wash. He was sure he looked greasy, because he damn well felt it. But if Artemis was going to drag his ass out of the house, she was going to get whatever he was giving. For a moment, Wally looks down, and imagines wiggling his toes. At least, if felt like they wiggled. Iris doesn’t make any sort of noise to suggest a reaction, and Wally can safely assume there was no wiggling.

Bart returns, albeit slower than his departure. Bag in one hand, shoes slung over a shoulder. Far too prepared for what Artemis promised to be a small outing to her university thing. Maybe it was the university thing that Wally saw on tv earlier. Maybe they were all conspiring against him. He didn’t know, just batted Bart’s hands away, and leaned forward awkwardly enough to pull his socks on, assembling and reassembling his legs to get his shoes on next. The laces were too loose, he could see that, but he couldn’t feel it. What difference did it make, he tells himself, and rocks back and forth again. 

“We won’t be out too long.” Wally was reassuring Iris, who hadn’t moved from her spot. Like a freaking statue in the hallway, just watching him. It would have been super creepy, had Wally not known that Iris had been there when it happened. And Bart. And Barry. And their whole damn family. His cousins still rang, even if there was starting to be more days between calls. If Bart was talking to his dad was another thing, but Wally wasn’t going to get between that.

They hear Artemis revving up the street before they actually see her, and Wally cracks a smile. His face feels like it shouldn’t make such an expression after so long, but it’s good. Natural almost. If Wally let his head turn to the right, he would see enough photos on the wall to prove it was a natural sort of thing for him.

Bart opens the door, and Wally pushes himself forward. Slowly, because whilst this house was slightly bigger than their one back in Central, he still had to tuck his elbows in. The ramp was new. Back home they had put a large piece of wood over the stone steps leading into the house. As Wally lets himself roll down the ramp, he doesn’t tell himself that this is now home, because it wasn’t. Fucking Gotham, he thinks, as Artemis screeches to a halt in front of their house.

Oh great, scare Iris even more. Her grip on his shoulder was going to leave a mark, and Bart looked at the car like it might be the last thing he ever saw.

“I’ll give you a six on the park.” Wally finds his voice finally, when Artemis is clambering out her seat, slamming the door. 

“Why’s that?”

“You went up the curb.”

Artemis walks around, hands on hips, like such a thing hadn’t even occurred to her. Wally simultaneously loved and hated it. Hitching a thumb over her shoulder, she grins, like it was the good old days of freshman year and they decided to take a gap year to ‘find themselves’. “Ready to go, loser?”

“How did you know about the name change?” he quips, not missing a beat, fingers flexing when he pulls to a stop in front of her. 

“I had a feeling. Woke up this morning and went ‘asshole should’ve told me’.”

“What did I say about using my middle name in public! It’s embarrassing!”

She didn’t look down at him, as she held the door open. Wally might’ve kicked up a stink, if he was feeling particularly emotional, but he accepted the hand. Watched Artemis expertly fold the wheelchair and place it in the backseat, letting Wally readjust his legs. Whilst he never knew what it was, why Artemis was the only one who didn’t look at him and go _poor Wally_ , he had to say, he would be forever thankful. It was like Artemis wasn’t afraid of hurting him, because he’d been hurt enough, and just wanted some of that old life back.

Maybe she got it. Maybe she didn’t. Wally didn’t linger on it so much when she’s practically shoving Bart in the back, and buckling him in despite his protests of being nearly an adult. Artemis had the spectacular ability to just about snap anyone out of anything and make them argue, apparently. It was doing wonders on finally putting that embarrassed ruddy colour back in Bart’s cheeks, as Artemis fussed and he tried to escape. Any other time of year, he might’ve commented. 

Wally only managed a wave at Iris, who still looked completely on edge. That’s what got him the most. Iris had been through so much more with Barry, and yet it was like walking on glass around his aunt, careful not to scare her off. Noting that he had spent far longer lingering on life in Central City so far than any other day, Wally finally turned to look out the window. “So what’s this super cool thing you promised to take me to?”

“Orientation week at my university.”

“Oh, _gross_.”

“Come on, it’ll be interesting! Besides, apparently Bruce Wayne will be there to donate something.”

“Money.”

“Well _obviously_ , West, what else does the big man in the suit donate?”

Raising a brow, Wally turns to Artemis. “Do you watch the news? The man donates like tech _all_ the time to causes and whatever.”

“Sorry I don’t laze around on the couch all day. I’m trying to get my bachelors, you know.”

“How is the love life going, by the way? Any _bachelors_?” No pause, just words moving. How Artemis had this affect on him was beyond Wally, but he almost imagined crossing his legs on the dashboard, arms behind his head, and singing to some stupid pop song when Artemis tried to argue about her love life. They might’ve even had this exact conversation several years ago. It went so well, it was like it was rehearsed.

“About half a dozen.”

“That all?”

Bart makes a mild gasp in the back, and Wally almost says something about agreeing with him, except he turns. “No shit.” 

Gotham University, one of the bigger, fancier buildings in the city, practically towered over them. But that’s not what got Bart’s attention. It was the floats, and the signs. A full on parade was passing by them, and Bart looked like he was young enough for Wally to carry on his shoulders again, that it left a physical ache in him. Bart was practically bouncing in his seat, fingers splayed on the window, nose against the glass. 

“Let me find a park first.”

“Oh, yeah, Bart, did you grab the tag?”

Barely, he gets his cousin’s attention, enough to have him stick a hand in the bag from earlier, not even focusing on fishing around. “Earth to Bart Allen. Hellooo?”

“Got it!” Bart holds up some protein bar that looked so flat like it had been in that bag for a good few months, that Wally sighed.

“Give it here.” Opening the side pocket, Wally finds the blue tag, hooking it over the rearview mirror while Artemis throws the car into reverse. 

“You don’t need to do that you know,” she murmurs, as if taking advantage of the disabled parking was a crime, or against her moral code (Wally sincerely doubted Artemis’ moral code even existed, but that was beside the point).

“I am in a wheelchair for however long and I am going to take advantage of it.”

“Alright. Still think you should paint your chair green though.”

“Red is the cooler colour here, no contest.”

“Paint it yellow!” Bart adds in, and he’s alight again, eyes shining as he’s out of the car before Artemis had even turned off the engine, bouncing around. Wally smiles, but he watches a car whizz past in the mirrors, and can’t deny how his heart started hammering again.

We’re fine, he tells himself, as he throws his door open, pulling his legs out. No one is gonna hit us today. Artemis sets up his chair, holding it still as he lifts himself in. He can’t find his voice to tell Bart to stop fussing, stop running around. Just watches carefully, notes all the mirrors, the spare parking spots. Feels his palms go clammy, sweat on the back of his neck. Wally blames the hot weather, waits for Artemis to lock her car — and double check — before they move on. 

It’s like the air sizzles around them, as they make their way across the road towards campus. Waiting at the lights, Wally feels every one of his hairs stand on end, when a semi-truck rolls past, full speed ahead. If he listened closely, he could hear the screech of the tires, as if it was only yesterday.

“Let’s go!” 

Artemis pushes him, and Wally lets her. Like all the strength in his body leaves him, and he just holds his bag against his chest. Bart has a hand on the back of his chair, keeping close against the crowd leaving the event. Wally almost wants to reach up and hold his hand instead, but just digs his nails into the material and tells himself they are almost across the street. 

Close, too close. Shaky breaths leave him, and Wally squeezes his eyes shut. This was the real reason he didn’t want to leave the house just yet. He still wasn’t ready to go outside and be faced with all this. Too many people around him, too many cars. Too much noise. It was getting to him, and if he could move, he knew he would run the fuck back home. 

“Hey, Wally, come on, breathe for me.”

Opening one eye, he notices he had been wheeled away from the entrance, and Artemis was crouching down so she was eye level. Bart wasn’t there, and Wally was kind of thankful. His fingers just didn’t quite listen to him, and seemed to grasp his bag tighter still. Was that normal? They told him parts of his body might not do what they were supposed to, but he thought it was just going to be his legs. Wally didn’t even feel like he was sitting there, if he were being honest. Like he was just watching over his shoulder, as Artemis laid a hand on his knee, visibly squeezing, but it wasn’t felt.

“Do you wanna go home? I might’ve been a bit too forceful…”

With a blink, Wally focused solely on Artemis. She looked almost genuine, but to other people it might’ve looked completely fake. The emotion was totally lost on Artemis, who maintained such a perfectly straight face all other times of the year, it had him laugh a little. “No. I’m here now. I think… I need to do this anyway.”

“Anytime you wanna go home—”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

That seemed to be enough friendliness for Artemis for the day, as she’s up and wheeling him along before he could say anything else. Whatever. Wally slowly let his grip on the bag relax, only flinching once when Bart turned up, already with food in hand. Of _course_ he had run off to find food. Wally’s stomach turned, almost like he wanted to eat again, and he accepted the offered fried whatever it was with a sniff. Since the accident he hadn’t had anything like this. Hell, he hadn’t eaten much of anything, and it showed, with him being a little more lanky than he was before.

“Wally, you won’t _believe_ what they have going on inside!” Bart is bouncing again, and leads them on. Slowly, Wally takes a bite, and another, then one more. Chews slowly as he looks around, and, well damn, Gotham was really good at throwing a celebration or event when it wanted to be. 

“So, Artemis, where is the big man gonna be talking, donating, whatever?”

“Why, you wanna watch?”

With a shrug, Wally watches as Bart disappears and reappears between the crowd, food in hand, a balloon, a smile. He’s still so young, Wally thinks with a smile. “Yeah, I got a question for him.”

“Dunno if he’ll be taking crowd questions today, you know.”

“True.”

A pause. “Is it about your legs?”

“Fuck yeah it is. If anyone can fix me, it’ll be Bruce Wayne, right?”

Artemis doesn’t answer him for a while, until they’re around the back, following all signs pointing to STAGE. Priority seating at the front, Bart kind of hovering with just how hyped up on sugar he is, not sitting at all, but Wally doesn’t mind. Just takes Bart’s hand in his own, once he’s managed to wipe a brand new stain all over the front of his pants, of course.

“I don’t think he can help you, Wally,” Artemis finally says, as a hush goes over the crowd. 

Looking at Artemis out the corner of his eye, Wally just shrugs. Bart’s fingers tighten around his own, and it cements that little idea in the back of his mind. “It’s worth a shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been so long since I've had to tag so many different fandoms alone i still did not cover nearly enough but w/e
> 
> the college stuff is bg but i figured i should tag bc its ? there ? artemis at least. anyway ok pls enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, that was an experience.”

Artemis snorts, and leans her head back to throw another bit of popcorn up, just barely catching it when Wally lets out a snort. “I don’t know what you were expecting.”

“Question time, mostly.” Wally feels his eyebrows draw together, as he watches Bart start to wander off, before pulling back. The kid had seen the ferris wheel on their way out of the area where the stage was, and Wally felt a little guilty. When they were watching the presentation, Wally did think he should’ve told Bart to invite a friend or something along. Keep him company, let him run off while Wally moped. 

He realises then he really didn’t know who Bart hung around. 

“Yeah, right. Wayne’s second kid is attending university, of course it would just be about him presenting some donation to the library or whatever.”

“Sorry I don’t do all your fancy upper class shit, Artemis!” He doesn’t mean to come of nearly as abrasive as he does, but Wally turns to look up at Artemis and can’t keep the bite out of his tone.

And Artemis gave it back twice over. “West, you know as well as I do I _don’t_ do upper class!”

A snap, and Wally sinks in his chair. Of _course_ he knew. Wally knew that Artemis was at the opposite end of the spectrum to the high life of Gotham. Despite how they had first met, Artemis had always been level, if a bit taunting, towards _them_. It was always _them_ verse her, and Wally had indulged it more than once. But then they had gone separate ways, and Wally finished his degree at Stanford, only for Artemis to turn up on his doorstep one day.

“Sorry. I—I know. I’m just—” He stops, jaw snapping shut. Wally didn’t know where he was going with that apology. Clenching his hands into fists, he just lets his head fall back. “Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“It’s fine. Maybe I should take you home.”

Bart zips past them again, a little too focused on whatever was going on down one of those game lanes. Maybe he saw someone he knew, maybe he just wanted to play a game. Wally rocked himself back and forth a few times, before pushing forward. “I wanna at least take Bart on the ferris wheel before we go — I owe him that much.”

“Alright.” No argument, and Wally felt worse than before at how Artemis simply walked beside him, no hand resting on a handle. There was that distance Wally had seen just before Artemis had completely disappeared off the radar halfway through their second year. Closing herself off was Artemis’ specialty, but then there were times like this.

Seeing there was no more room for continuing that conversation, or resurrecting it in the slightest, no matter how much they had griped in the bleachers over Bruce Wayne’s “punk-rock” son, Wally turned his attention to Bart. With a push, he rolled ahead, catching up to Bart eventually. A perk of the wheelchair was the crowd spread around him, letting him move on ahead. The definite con was how people just looked down, always a little bit sad, sometimes a little bit sympathetic, and other times annoyed like he shouldn’t be there. Wally didn’t get that reaction the most. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was him, after all (right?).

“Hey, Bart, slow down a sec.”

Bart had found himself completely taken by a clown game, and Wally couldn’t help but make a face at it. Green hair, and bright red lips pulled up into a cracked smile. Great, he would definitely start seeing that one in his nightmares, right alongside a semi truck and Bart screaming. “You’re kidding me. Bart, these things are _rigged_.”

“But they’re _fun!”_ Bart doesn’t look at Wally twice, as he hands over cash and takes the little plastic balls in hand. Rolling a look over at Artemis, who had amused herself with a shooting game, Wally just looks back.

“I really want the unicorn. Win me a unicorn.”

A snort, but Bart salutes him anyway. Sometimes, Wally was a little worried about Bart. Just sometimes, because he was so much quieter than he was before the accident. But, then he lets out a loud whoop, and presents Wally with a giant stuffed unicorn that has Wally himself and the guy running the game quite stunned. Deep down, Wally knew he shouldn’t have been so worried — Bart was always so capable of bouncing back. What that spoke of, Wally wasn’t sure, but when they show their spoils off to Artemis, who ruffles Bart’s hair, it’s fine. They’re _fine_.

“Hey, you wanna go on the ferris wheel? My treat.”

The lineup for the ferris wheel sucks, but Bart is absolutely buzzing and Artemis is finally smiling again. Good, Wally thinks, as they roll forward, one spot at a time. 

“Apparently this one is the _largest_ in all of Gotham!” And there goes Bart, spouting information. Most of the time it was useless babble, scientific stuff that Wally could relate to, but otherwise drowned out. Only recently. Everything before was still a little fuzzy.

“What’s it doing on university grounds then?” Wally grunted at Artemis’ question: he thought the exact same thing. As far as he was aware, the biggest ferris wheel in Gotham was further down south.

“Didn’t you read the paper the other day? It burnt down. Some massive explosion under the amusement mile. Everything went _kaboom_.”

“I used to go there as a kid with my parents. Damn, I really enjoyed that place.”

As Wally shrugs, he’s pushed forward. Having spent most of his life in Central City, and a few years in Palo Alto, he really didn’t have much to give to the conversation. Artemis had lived most of her life in Gotham, in the seedier parts she had mentioned (only one night, when they had gotten pissed enough for her to cry about it). But then she had received a letter in the mail and went from Gotham North to Gotham Academy, and stepped up so quickly in the world it almost scared her off. At least, that was Wally’s theory. 

Artemis was gung-ho and fearless, made of tougher stuff in her little finger than Wally had in his entire body. He still had questions about why she left, why she reappeared, but he didn’t press her. Just made small jokes at her accepting to study at Gotham University, and stay in this goddamn city like the rest of them.

For a moment, Wally thinks that his feet tingle, like they were going numb from pins and needles, but knows it was just his imagination. A small reminder of why he was in Gotham, after all.

“Finally,” Artemis sighs, as her and Bart heave Wally up under the arms and get him into the cart. There’s a biting remark in the back of his throat at being so manhandled, especially when one of the attendants lifts his legs. Wally swallows the remark, and his bitterness, and rests chin in hand, waiting for the lock to click. Beside him, Bart slides in with unicorn in his arms, and Wally almost melts.

When they’re swinging up, Wally sees as the ride attendants struggle to fold his chair up, and stops himself from yelling out. Only, because someone who was waiting after them stepped out from the line, and cleanly popped the locks and folded it up. It wasn’t that Wally was surprised by how someone knew how to do it _properly,_ of course _._ What caught him off guard was the sunglasses on the guy’s face at eight at night.

Artemis nudges him in the ribs with the toe of her shoe, and Wally finally focuses on something other than the family clambering into the cart next to theirs. She’s forgiven him. For now. He’ll pay for his comments about her later, but Bart is practically vibrating through the seat beside him as they climb higher and higher. Throwing her head in his direction, Wally does look Bart head on, and smiles despite his shitty mood.

Bart hadn’t seen much of anything with his parents. His dad was always on the road, apparently. They moved a lot. Eventually, Bart put his foot down about living with his grandparents, and didn’t really give his dad a choice in the matter. That was a couple of years ago, long after Wally had moved out. Before then, they had only met at family functions, if either side of the family bothered to show up. 

Once, Bart had said he hadn’t been to a carnival before. Wally had always meant to take him, but something always came up at work, or school for Bart. And whilst a ferris wheel at a university’s orientation week didn’t really count as a carnival, it was as damn close as Wally was going to get.

“Glad we came?” he asks, when Artemis finally ducks her own head out of the cart, taking in the view.

“Yeah… Yeah!” Wally gets a bone crushing hug, and has to remind himself that Bart is seventeen, and it really wasn’t that bone crushing. He was just going soft. It never helped Bart never acted like a seventeen year old, swinging wildly between a three year old on red cordial and a eighty year old war veteran, so it made it hard to remember sometimes.

Although, Wally wasn’t sure he ever wanted Bart to stabilise. His life wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining then.

When they’re nearing the top, Wally can see the next cart creeping up. There’s the guy in sunglasses again. At least, Wally thinks he’s still got them on. “Hey, Bart,” he whispers, hopefully quick enough before they completely disappear. Or go horizontal, so it totally gives away they were talking about them.

“Yeah?”

“Are those people wearing sunglasses?” They had travelled horizontally enough before he got Bart’s attention, but now that Wally could see them all, it was really odd to notice almost all those in the next cart had sunglasses on.

“Oh my god they _are_!”

Too loud. _Way_ too loud. But maybe there was someone up there looking over them, because fucking _fireworks_ went off. Wally sent a look at Artemis that spoke volumes of just how much this fit the richie riches of Gotham to a tee, and Artemis simply poked her tongue back at him. “I knew!” she shouts, over the explosions, and Wally isn’t remotely surprised.

If he thought back on it all, he knew that he should’ve known. Friday night, last night of orientation week, and it wasn’t just future students on campus. That would make sense. As Wally watches the sky fill with all sorts of colour, and hears the crowd below them yell alongside it all, for one moment, he forgot about his problems. He would gripe about timing and Artemis being a sneaky little asshat later, and how Bart just would not stop rocking the cart as they watched, and how his legs honestly felt like they were jumping in time to the explosions. Later, Wally would laugh about the family beside them that honestly reminded him of a cult in sunglasses, because there were kids in there too, one of them whooping loudly alongside Bart.

“Okay, I have to hand it to you, Crock. You did good.”

“I always do good.” 

Wally can’t help but smile at that. “Debatable, but this time… thanks, Artemis.”

“Don’t start getting soft on me.”

“I’m just that kind of guy.”

She punches him in the shoulder, and he calls for justice. And justice catches his eye when he turns to defend himself from the next onslaught, when he notices Mr Sunglasses Cult was no longer part of the cult. Wally didn’t believe in moments, but for a fraction of a second he did, until he caught Artemis’ fist in his side, and the carts started moving again. If there had been a moment, it was long gone, and Wally started shouting.

“Rude! Foul!”

“Rules of the jungle! You look away, you die!”

The rest of the ride down, it’s Wally trying to fend off Artemis while Bart just laughs and laughs. No memory of a moment, as he complains about bed time, and how they would miss the midnight fireworks. Artemis calls him an old man, and pops his chair into place before letting him do most of the work this time. Slide himself into the chair, even though he was pretty sure that would bruise even if he didn’t feel it. 

As he starts rolling off, Artemis with a sure grip on the handles once more, they fall back in step with the crowd. The next hour flies by, as Artemis pumps Bart full of fairy floss, and Wally tries his hand at a water gun game. He fails, miserably, but that didn’t matter. A consolation prize sits in his lap on top of his beautiful unicorn. Bart is too hyped to think up a name other than ‘sparkles’, and Artemis thinks that ‘tiger’ was far more fitting.

They finally settle on something long and stupid like ‘Princess Sparkles Lightning Tiger Fighter Flash Danger’, or, ‘Princess Danger’ for short. At least, Wally was pretty sure that’s what it was. He just referred to the damn thing as a unicorn and received a nice _thwack_ to the back of his head. Not his fault he didn’t know where they came up with a stupid name like that, a mix of nouns and adjectives! 

“Are we gonna hang around for the midnight fireworks?” he finally asks, when Bart runs another game owner out of their top prize.

Lips twisting, Artemis shakes her head. “I have to study. Classes start on Monday and we got a lot of readings to do before then.”

“Fair enough.” No malice in his voice, as Wally had to admit he was glad Artemis had decided to return to finishing _something_. It had taken him a year of badgering her back into study, telling her to get her life back on track before whatever it was that happened, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. Beside, sitting in the chair for the last few hours was starting to make his back ache. “Hey, Bart! We’re gonna head home.”

Spinning on his heel, there was a look on Bart’s face that Wally was mildly afraid of. “No,” he says, before Bart can even start, because like hell he’s going to bend over for some stupid request from an _Allen_! They may have managed to perfect the pleading eyes and pout over several generations, but Wally had always maintained putting his foot down. Or, at least, in his mind he was putting his foot down. He wasn’t going to linger on that.

“But…! Wally, come on, just _one more_ game! Please!”

“You ate like my entire wallet.”

“You _offered_.”

“He’s got you there,” Artemis comments, ever helpful.

“No one likes a backseat driver.”

“And no one likes a killjoy! Look, I’ll even let you play _with_ me.”

“So generous.”

Wally is the first one to blink, and he groans as Bart whoops and leads them over to the absolute last booth of the night, no arguments, no sir. Bart was not going to get away with anymore food, high metabolism be damned. Iris was probably out of her mind by now with no messages from either of them. That was totally Wally’s fault though, with him switching his phone off. Bart just took to radio silence and well, Artemis was Artemis. Wally wasn’t sure she even had a phone on her anymore.

“You want me to shoot ducks?”

“Just because you have poor hand-eye coordination…”

“What the hell do you know about my hand-eye coordination?!”

Bart grins. “You’d be amazed what gramps used to tell me when I spent summers at their house.”

“Great. Just great. I am moving out in the morning, just so we’re clear.”

Laughing, Bart pulls out some money (“ _Liar!_ ” Wally caws, because he knew that Bart had money on him dammit!), paying for himself and Wally. Artemis hangs back, despite her backseat driving, commenting on Wally looked rather uncomfortable holding the toy gun in hand. “Well, why don’t _you_ play for me?”

“Yeah, nah. You and Bart need to hurry up so we can go.”

With a snort, Wally raises the gun, aiming it at one particularly slow duck on the game. That one looked like it’s line wasn’t working. Bart was off, firing away at the top row, catching at least three before he ran out of pellets. Consolation prize consisted of a small disfigured wolf, that Bart just added to the ever growing pile of ugly toys in the backpack.

Wally hadn’t fired a shot yet, carefully balancing himself and purposely going slower still, just to antagonise Bart. It wasn’t his fault that Bart was so insistent on being so speedy about some things. Closing an eye, Wally figures he might as well take one round, if only to save himself some more goading from Artemis.

Until, he misses the figure coming from his right, and barreling into his side. The shot veers way off left, puncturing some toy strapped in the corner, and Artemis just manages to catch his chair before he tips over. Wally wasn’t sure who was shouting, but his head swims, as the jolt does something to him, drags him out of how happy he had been for the past few hours. “Wally? Hey, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’m so sorry! Oh my god, I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“You’ve only said that a dozen times now, but I don’t see you helping, _kid_.”

Blinking, Wally noticed the toy gun was gone from his hands, and he flexed his fingers. Imagined he was doing the same to his toes. Whoa. One thing he hadn’t expected was that being pushed in his chair would throw him so out of whack. Maybe Iris was right, it was still too early to go outside just yet.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A new voice, one that kind of bounced around his head a bit. Perhaps a little too friendly, as Wally found himself focusing on how Artemis said something to the new person, which was only ignored so well its was like they had done it before. And then Wally noticed the sunglasses, and his mouth formed a small ‘o’. “You were next to us on the ferris wheel.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, we were. Sorry, my brothers can get a … little out of hand.”

“ _Suuuuure_ they do. Maybe they should wa—”

“Artemis… it’s fine. Seriously. Just,” Wally holds up his hands, “back up a bit, please?”

“Of course.” Artemis makes a face as they answer at the same time, but her hands don’t leave him, and Wally can still hear one of the brothers apologising in the background. It was probably the one who had crashed into him. Bart was saying something, but it was mostly white noise as he ran a hand over his face.

“I still have four shots left on the game, right?”

Finally, someone is laughing. Wally can’t help but crack a grin, even if his head was still swimming. Well, he definitely wasn’t going to give it a go like he was. Looking up at Artemis, he makes a sorry sort of face, not trying to be apologetic at all, but he watched her frown. Some more conversation that is lost on him, and he hears four shots fired before another toy is shoved into his arms.

“Jay—”

“Thank you,” Wally says, carefully, at the far too large bird in his arms now. Bart had picked up the unicorn from where it had sat on the ground during the entire exchange, and Wally was sure they looked all the more ridiculous. Probably even more so than by an entire family who insisted on wearing sunglasses at night.

“No problem.” The kid grins, and its not nearly as friendly as he may try to appear. Or he might not even be trying. Wally was still coming to terms with the fact he never got a proper turn. “Come on, John, let’s go already.”

“I—sure. Get Thomas and Alvin ready to go. No idea where Cass ran off to.”

“I have an idea.”

Wally would have called that a tense moment, but he was no person to really talk. Only because it was increasingly embarrassing that they were still in front of the game, simply all to do with him and his chair. Cheeks warming, Wally looked over at Artemis, who just got it straight away, and had her hands on the handles once more. Controlling, but not in a bad way. Whilst the last few minutes wouldn’t cloud over the entire night, Wally curled his nails into the material of his shorts and knew that it would definitely be coloured black. 

“Well, if you’re gonna go, we might as well too…”

Raising his eyes, quickly, Wally was finding the glasses slightly annoying, if only because he wasn’t sure where the two before him were looking. At Artemis, or at him? Wally only liked sunglasses when he was the one wearing them for this reason.

“I’m really sorry again for my brothers. If there’s anything we can do—”

“It’s fine, really. It’s just getting kinda late.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and Wally looks over at where Bart was talking to the other two. Three. A girl joined them, and he heard the name ‘Cass’ mentioned again. Bart was talking amicably, despite the circumstances. Like nothing happened and they had met normally. For a whole moment, Wally entertained the thought that this was starting to get increasingly normal for him to meet people like this, and finally put his hands over the wheels once more.

“It was nice meeting you… uh…”

“I’m John. This is Jay. Those two are Thomas and Alvin.” A hand lands firmly in the middle of Jay’s chest, and there’s a sour look there that says more than the false cheer on John’s face. The names don’t even quite sit right with the faces, or what Wally could make out of them around the glasses. Too large on their faces, wrapping around and covering up too much. 

“I’m Wally, this is Artemis. That’s Bart.” Wally tried not to let any dryness end up in his voice, as he hitched a thumb over his shoulder. Bart was trading phone numbers, with a willing victim or not, and at that moment Wally didn’t really see it as a good time to argue. “Right. John. Jay. A pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Wally was fairly sure Artemis and himself pulled the same expression at just how old-fashioned John was coming off, but he didn’t want to voice that either. With a wave, one last look over his shoulder, Wally was pushed along by Artemis, Bart hanging back to wave even harder. Both arms, with one hand firmly holding onto the unicorn, as he was sure John or Alvin or Thomas or whoever it was he was talking to earlier was waving back.

“That was weird.”

“That was more than just _weird_ , Wally. They were like a fucking cult.”

Bart pipes up at that, as they were finally out of his range of sight enough for him to let his arms leave the air. “I thought it was cute.”

“Whatever it was, I really hope I never run into that again.” Wally rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. He was going to be bruised in the morning, and Iris was going to lose her shit when they got home this late, and there was _mud_ on his damn unicorn. “Never, ever again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guh


	3. Chapter 3

Wally wouldn’t admit it outwardly, but he _loathed_ going to the rehabilitation centre. Despite the sneaking suspicion that his aunt and uncle knew, he himself knew he still had to go. Last week, the doctor had made a point of repeating, over and over, that recovery was still possible. Surgery was a definite, but if he built his muscles, improved himself, it would make the long-term recovery easier. At least this doctor wasn’t just trying to milk them of their money, like one of the ones back in Central had been. Wally didn’t hate him, but once all this was over (if it was ever going to be over), he swore he would never go near a doctor’s office again.

Rolling outside, Wally took a moment to breathe in fresh air. It was always so stale and fake in the building, even if it was state of the art. Left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, that just had him tearing his hair out at how much he wanted to _get out_. Wally was this close to just going ‘fuck it’ and staying in the chair for the rest of his life, especially when one of the nurses smiled at him a little too pitifully that morning. That was to be expected, he supposed, sad acts getting at him from every angle. 

He had thought he was made of tougher stuff, but as he rolled through the park, noting various other patients taking a breather, he knew he wasn’t. He never had been, and it didn’t really make a difference. Damn, his head hurt. He’d only had a few hours sleep, before his alarm went off and he’d been rolled into the back of Artemis’ car. She had dropped him off before her morning classes, telling him _have a good day, son_ , and laughing as she left. Wally would have found it amusing, had she not looked at him like everyone else. 

With a click of his tongue, Wally takes a left, then a right, going down one path that hadn’t been fixed up in a while. Gravel was getting into his wheels, and Wally hoped for a flat tyre. That would just top off his day. 

It’s not until he gets further down that he realises this particular part of the park wasn’t exactly as vacant as he thought. Ahead, a young guy was hunched over, playing on his phone, and it wouldn’t have looked out of the ordinary, if he hadn’t looked up when Wally approached. Definitely, the shock of white hair was what got Wally first, as everyone he had seen with it since hadn’t seemed just as natural with it.

“Oh my god, it’s you!” Ah, good old foot in mouth disease. Wally was momentarily thankful that _that_ had not disappeared alongside the rest of his personality post accident. But he couldn’t help himself, really, as he wheeled himself along the path. He was just minding his own business, taking a break between sessions, when he had come across 

Well, _him_. That guy who had won him that giant bird. Iris had said it was a robin, but Wally hadn’t really noticed the particular attempt at species in the stuffed animal when he had also been up to his ears in ‘why didn’t you ring we were so worried I am so disappointed in _all_ of you I can’t believe you’. Barry at least had been marginally more reasonable, and was the one who had insisted that Artemis leave, whilst Bart and Wally go to their rooms _right now_. 

“Do I know you?” 

Wally can see a brow raise over the edge of his glasses, and he can’t help the smile. “Maybe.” Said brow then drops, and a scowl forms over the guy’s face. Considering how he had acted several weeks back, Wally didn’t assume he would get like this. Granted, he hadn’t assumed much of anything, apart from how weird the entire exchange had been. Artemis had brought it up a total of three times since then, only since they had spent one afternoon in his room doing her chemistry homework. 

He didn’t really want to remember the other two times. “So, what brings you out here?” Wheeling himself around to park beside the bench, Wally rests chin in hand, staring up at Jay. If that was even his name. From how they had spoken back then, this guy didn’t have much in the way of a sense of humour. And Wally didn’t want to test the waters too much, considering how the guy seemed to follow him closely, and was staring at him out the corner of his eye. Wary, a little too wary.

“I’m waiting for my sister.”

It was Wally’s turn to raise his brows, as he actually had not expected a response. If anything, whilst it wasn’t really an attempt at conversation, Jay’s comment left him stumped. Wally didn’t really want to press him any further, and rocked back and forth in his chair. Distracting himself, because damn if he didn’t know what to ask next. “Sister, huh? Was that, uh, the one from the orientation thing?”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m so glad I’ve managed to get two seven syllable sentences out of you. New record.”

Wally thought it was just a trick of the light, but he swore he saw a smile work its way onto Jay’s face. So the guy did have a sense of humour. Slightly terrifying about a sibling, but that was a respectable attribute to have. “You know, I kinda swore I never wanted to run into this again.”

Jay seems to purposely go slow as he debated his next words, or Wally was just so used to how _fast_ everything operated in his own house. Even if being wheelchair bound had significantly decreased the speed in everything he did, he still talked fast, moved fast. Barry and Bart hadn’t really slowed down around him either (okay, Bart a little more noticeably). Maybe Wally was still convincing himself nothing had changed, except his fingers burn a little from still rolling himself back and forth, back and forth, waiting for Jay to speak.

“I’m assuming ‘this’ would be… myself?” Eight syllables, progress. Wally didn’t say it out loud, and stilled himself. Why was he nervous? He shouldn’t have been nervous when he was the one who initiated conversation. If anything, Jay was looking a little more frazzled at having to talk to someone than Wally felt. Maybe they were on the same boat, and Wally did a quick scan of Jay’s person, just to make sure.

“It’s the sunglasses. It’s kinda weird, Jay. Can I call you ‘Jay’? Is that even your name? Because like, sunglasses and how, er, John — is that his name? — was introducing you all, it was like—”

“Whoa, please just, slow down a little, dang.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Bad habit.”

Quiet again, and Wally starts rocking again. It felt like he was watching himself from a spot behind his shoulder once more. Watching as he made a complete ass of himself, curling down a little to hide his face. Where did this come from? Wally could hear Iris in the back of his head again, suggesting he make another appointment with the — psychologist? Psychiatrist? Or was it just a therapist she wanted him to see? He could see his own mind running in circles, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Jay was mumbling something, and Wally just manages to catch him taking off his sunglasses. Now he recognised him, entirely. Not that he was going to say a word about that, from how Jason was holding his glasses tightly in hand. “You know, in a movie, that would’ve been a lot slower, and there would be romantic overtures.”

A snort. “Is there supposed to be romantic overtures?”

“Dunno. Not from me anyway. I can put on a wig though, if that’ll give it the real romance feel.”

“Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’ve done drugs. Not that I do drugs. I mean like, morphine, you know, green whistle that shit. Which I also have not done, by the way. Before you get any ideas.”

“When we met back at the carnival, you were a lot more _reserved_. Also, your girlfriend looked like she wanted to kill my brother, and potentially my entire family.” Well, if that wasn’t an honest attempt at humour, Wally wasn’t sure what was. Jay’s smile was a little tighter than the one Wally had nearly missed earlier, and there was some joke about his family that Wally didn’t quite understand, but it eased him, just a fraction.

“Yes, well, there was an attempt on my chair. And, for the record, Artemis isn’t my girlfriend.”

“If we’re going on the record, my name isn’t ‘Jay’.”

It’s Wally’s turn to snort. “I knew it.”

Jay — or, not-Jay — grins as he pats his pockets down, seeming intent to find something. Letting at a small ‘hah!’, not-Jay pulls out a crumpled pack of smokes into the afternoon light. “My name’s Jason.” Then, he pauses, seemingly noticing present company. “Oh, sorry, do you mind? I can go elsewhere…”

“You’re all good, Jason.”

He lets out a small chuckle, and slips a slightly squished cigarette between his lips, lighting up with a rather flashy lighter. “Present from my brother,” he mumbles around the stick, as he presses down on it, letting the LED go off once more. He must’ve seen Wally staring. “He thought it was hilarious.”

“It’s in the shape of a bat.”

“I know. Unfortunately, being a colossal fucking idiot is a family trait.” And yet, for all of Jay’s — oops, no, _Jason_ ’s — grievances about a light-up lighter, he looked rather fondly at it. Wally had no doubt in his mind that it was something Jason had held onto for quite some time. 

“You know, you’re not quite as dark and edgy as you make yourself out to be.” There was his foot, once again in his mouth. At least Jason had found his humour in the last ten minutes of the Wally West show, and didn’t seem at all deterred. Maybe he did think Wally was on something, and despite the slight anxiety over what people thought of him, Wally didn’t really worry. Not outwardly, anyway. He would kick himself about it later.

“I never tried to make myself ‘dark and edgy’.” Jason blows a puff of smoke out in the opposite direction of Wally, tapping ash over the back of the bench. Wally would not have been surprised if this was a regular routine for Jason, and wondered just how many times they had passed each other. Not that Wally had seen him since the orientation, and Wally was here, every week, without fail.

“Glasses at night, white streak in hair. I’m pretty sure that wearing bike boots in the summer and smoking also count towards ‘dark and edgy’.” Ticking off on his fingers, Wally felt his grin grow, as Jason just rolled his eyes in response. 

At least the weather wasn’t too bad today. It was starting to cool down, only a few degrees more, at night. Wally would be so thankful when he could sleep with a quilt again. Sleeping over the sheets with the fan going at the highest speed meant he spent the night aware that his legs were still attached, but not moving. With a quilt, at least he could forget, and readjust himself to curl up and convince himself he could forget.

“Glasses were _John’s_ idea. I ride a motorbike, which does in no way contribute to ‘dark and edgy’, by the way. I’ve smoked since I was like _twelve,_ and—”

“And?”

“I can’t believe you’re making me talk so much shit.”

“So, the strong, silent type is just an act?”

“No, you’re a fucking nuisance actually.” Jason runs a hand over his face, and Wally might’ve taken it personally. 

“I get that a lot.”

“Shockingly, I’m unsurprised.”

Wally makes a note, that the hair thing was completely ignored, and despite how taunts about it definitely being ‘part of a phase’ were on the tip of his tongue, he didn’t speak. Jason ran his hands through his hair, a few more times, and Wally knew it meant something else. No prying, even if he could hear Iris, at least ten years younger, telling him about how strangers sometimes made the best conversationalists, Wally didn’t want to tempt fate. After all, despite swearing up and down on the way home he wouldn’t run into them again, he ran into at least one fifth of the Sunglasses Cult. Potentially, two fifths, if Jason’s sister really was inside the building.

Despite how many times he flicks his fingers, Jason doesn’t seem to feel a need to inhale anymore. Maybe it was just a comfort thing. Maybe he was talking a little too much to feel a need a stop. And maybe, Wally could feel himself reading into it, more than he should. Not that it was a bad thing, at least he told himself that. Reading into things had been part of his job, back in the day. That was something he hadn’t thought about yet — did he still have his job?

Jason had squashed his cigarette under his boot, lighting up another without a second thought. Wally didn’t mind, shrugging when Jason asked him once more if it was fine, before rolling forward, back onto the path entirely. Could he pass it off as his version of pacing, if Jason was going to ask? Although, as Wally spared a glance, it looked like Jason was quite content to just stay silent, while Wally wheeled himself a distance forward, stopped, and turned back, repeating the motion over and over. 

Damn, he left his gloves inside the centre.

“I’m surprised you remembered me.”

Wally hadn’t meant to jump, but the sudden conversation brought him out of his dilemma. Wheeling a bit closer, Wally watched Jason lean forward, holding his cigarette loosely between his knees, a smile on his face that Wally couldn’t quite understand. What was the word that Artemis was always throwing around, whenever she talked about how Bart was these days?

“Glasses, hair. Boots. We went over why I recognised you.” Waving it off, Wally wanted to remember what that word was. It was something Artemis had been throwing around for the past few weeks, always talking about Bart and how he was _so sad_. Wally knew he was sad — like accident, falling out with family, moving to Gotham, _hello_ — but he didn’t get why. Not like Bart talked to him anyway. Even if things were better since the orientation, it was still weird, and Wally had never appreciated high school more had it not been for Bart being gone six hours of the day.

“No, I mean. Normally, I’m not the one people notice,” Jason’s voice drops to a mumble, and Wally almost misses the last few words.

 _Self-depreciating_. That was it. Talking himself down. Damn teenagers and all their feelings. Artemis would love to make a study out of this guy, though, now that Wally was thinking about it. Maybe they should exchange numbers. “Uh, why? I mean, aside from being really weird, you’re not exactly hard to miss in a rather deserted park at a _rehabilitation_ centre.” This was _getting_ weird, and Wally didn’t want to step any further into it. Roll any further into it. He still hadn’t quite worked out what was appropriate for him to use.

Barks of laughter, and Jason is doing that hand running through hair thing again. Wally was tempted to say he would get male pattern baldness earlier if he kept that up. “Look, I mean, ignoring the fact I watched your speech at the university, and you really do stick out like a sore thumb here, you’re not the easiest person to ignore.”

“Wait, you saw my speech.”

“Uh, _yeah_? Hello, orientation, Bruce Wayne donating something ridiculous for a library. Who _wasn’t_ at that thing?”

Groaning, Jason discards his second smoke in favour of rubbing his hands all over his face. “They made me practice in a mirror, the assholes.”

“It was pretty impressive. Lots of big words. I kind of zoned out.”

“I don’t blame you. They wouldn’t let B just walk up by himself, oh no, gotta have the second son there, make it look all fancy and shit. Fuck.” Jason stills, and peeking between his fingers, looks mildly worried. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I think it’s safe to say this conversation never happened. I’ve said some stuff I _really_ don’t want my aunt to find out about.”

Jason bites his lips, and despite everything, it did take a couple of years off him. Hell, Wally was sure that he actually looked his age, and not at whatever he was attempting to pass for. It was almost adorable, and Wally was sure that his perpetual state of looking a good few years younger than his age himself made this a whole lot easier for Jason. 

Catching a look at the time on his watch, Wally rolls his eyes. He was going to be late for his next session. “Well, I actually do have a purpose for being at this centre, as I’m sure you do.”

“What? Oh, right, yeah. Rehab.”

Laughter leaves Wally, as he watches Jason scramble to his feet, picking up his crushed smokes and dumping in the nearby bin. What a good kid. Wally starts to move forward, really regretting the no gloves situation, and Jason is walking a few steps behind. How considerate, Wally thinks, but there’s no bite to his words, even if he wanted there to be some. “You know, we can have more conversations that never happen, if you want.”

The pause is a little too long, and Wally almost regrets speaking. Anxiety, that he had managed to tamper down for the most part, scrambled up his throat, begging him to laugh it off, or move faster. One of the two, to pretend it never happened. 

Wally realises Jason had stopped a little way back. Looking over his shoulder, Wally frowns, about to ask what was wrong, when he sees Jason’s face.

“Really?”

And here Wally thought he just needed a reason to talk to a complete stranger, but as he nodded, Jason caught up to his chair, walking beside him. He looked _lighter_ , if that were possible. A little happier around the eyes, giving Wally a need to pause and consider if Jason had actually ever _spoken_ to anyone in his life, not just the usual humdrum of conversation. Well, even if he may come to regret it in the coming months, at least he was doing one good thing. 

“We’re here every fortnight. Uh, me and my sister. I normally take her.”

Huffing out a laugh, Wally waits for the automatic doors to open, before he appreciates how far technology had come. He could never live without air-conditioning. “Well, I’m here just about every day, at the moment.” Not that he wanted to be. But, Barry insisted. The _best_ rehabilitation centre this side of the coast. It was costing them a small fortune, and Wally knew he owed it to Barry and Iris to _get better_ (and he dug his nails into his thighs at that). Especially when there was a hope he _would._

“Yeah, right. Well… I’m gonna head this way. See you round, Wally.”

A little wave, and Wally smiled. “You too, Jason. Also, _glasses_.” Throwing a look down at the pair still held tightly in Jason’s hands, he watched a small ‘o’ form on his mouth, before a mumbled thank you. They were way too large on his face, and Wally watched Jason shuffle down the hallway, moving out the way of staff and patients alike.

“Mr West, this way please.”

Wally still wasn’t used to how Gotham operated. They were all psychics or something, but he still turned a smile at the nurse pointing him in the right direction. “You are late,” they remind him, and he doesn’t feel a need to retort. He was _always_ late. Someday, they would just get used to it here.

“I was talking with a friend.”

His nurse makes a unimpressed noise, and Wally wheeled himself into the room, seeing the harnesses and the other patients, and already knew this was the last place on Earth he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added a few more tags bc thats the direction its going in anyway  
> anyway, enjoy


	4. Chapter 4

For one whole moment, Wally actually felt remotely proud of himself. Definitely a feeling he hadn’t encountered in a few months, but as he rolls down the ramp of the bus, he thought it was well deserved. Even if the reasons for him opting for public transport weren’t exactly the most honourable, Wally pushes on, unable to stop a slight whistle leave him as he rolls through Gotham University gates. At least it was getting on in the afternoon to the point that he wouldn’t run into anyone, or wouldn’t have people move out the way with _those_ kinds of looks. Like they knew exactly what he was going through.

Ah, bad thoughts. Wally had promised himself that when he left the house he would stop thinking like that. Rolling through the campus made it almost easier to forget that morning, encountering nothing in particular. Nothing to really set him into that downward spiral he’d managed to pull himself out of on the way over. But when he watches first years walk by, he remembers his own time at university, months of bumming around with Artemis and Linda (oh god, _Linda_ ), eating far too much takeaway at awful times of the day. And _walking_. Wally could remember the walking so well, almost as well as the running.

Reminds him of how he felt like running away that morning, when Iris revealed she had found out he’d been skipping rehab sessions. She hadn’t listened to his reasoning, putting her foot down about the bills, the effort of moving, how much they had lost. And he got it, really, Wally _got_ what she was saying. He had sworn he would dedicate himself to getting better after what his aunt and uncle had sacrificed to move him to Gotham. But she didn’t get it, and no matter how much he yelled in the kitchen how it _hurt_ to try to move, to know he might not get better, Iris didn’t understand. 

Of course, Iris had gone on to ring his parents. His _absentee_ parents who had dumped him on his aunt and basically ignored his existence from birth, but that was beside the point, apparently. Woe be unto the _twenty-seven_ year old who was wheelchair bound to not like his current situation. At least, he had said that in lesser words, ones that mostly started with the letter ‘f’ and several variations of said word. Very loudly. His parents back in Central probably heard him. Wally definitely hoped they did, and wouldn’t come to Gotham after all.

He hoped, if not for his own sake at least for Bart’s, they would not come. Not after how this all started. Bart might've blamed himself for Wally ending up in a wheelchair, but at the end of the day, Wally blamed his dad. Barry knew that too, but Barry had made himself entirely scarce, which probably hurt the most out of everything. Wally had never known Barry to back off from a situation, but here it was, every damn day in this city, that same level of rejection. He honestly couldn’t remember the last conversation he had actually had with his uncle, when he really thought about it.

Stop thinking like that! he tells himself, but it’s too late to try the mental exercises his psychologist (psychiatrist?) had encouraged him to do. Dug himself too deep, even if he had believed on the bus over that he was fine. It was all _fine_. This situation should’ve been one of those where as long as he believed it was okay, no matter what, it was. Wally hadn’t even realised he’d pressed his nails too hard into the arms of his chair again, making sure those little half moon marks were going to be permanent. Something else to remind him of how much he really did hate this situation.

It could only get worse before it got better. 

“Did you actually catch a bus here?” A low drawl, accompanied by Artemis, arms crossed over her chest, and every inch of her face covered with disbelief. Wally would’ve asked what that disbelief was aimed at, if it didn't make something in him snap. Maybe, just maybe, he was being a little oversensitive. Just a touch too much of sensitivity, that he would have loved to have blamed on everything else that happened, and also ignore at the same time. But not now, not after the morning he had.

Wally doesn’t even try to hide the rolling of his eyes, as he slows himself down. Never in his life had Wally felt more like a child than at that moment, and he had hoped getting himself out the house for once would change that. That maybe Artemis would offer an understanding ear, as she was one of the only people who _got_ him. It was all about getting this, after all. Understanding was something that the therapist or psychiatrist (or even the psychologist?) had preached in the joint session, two days after moving to Gotham. 

When Wally had told Artemis about everything that had happened, she seemed to understand the most. But Artemis’ tone said otherwise, as she stood before him, hands on hips. A smaller part of Wally hoped that no one had actually rung Artemis, but from how she had cornered him out the front of the university, everything said otherwise. The list of who might’ve rung her was surprisingly short, and it didn’t encourage him to return home any time soon. “Let me guess: I’m simply too weak to do anything by myself now, according to you?”

It’s the deep sigh that really gets him, as Artemis rolls her head to the side, looking off and out the way. “I didn’t say that, Wally.”

“No, but you implied it.” 

“Stop reading into my words!” The jump in her voice is starting to get them attention from people who might’ve been enjoying a casual lunch. Something, maybe an appetite, was starting to gnaw at his gut. Wally would’ve preferred it to be just simple anger, but he hadn’t eaten properly for close to a week now. God, everything was messing with his head.

“Not until you all stop treating me like I’m going to break!” He hadn’t meant to slam his fist down on the arm of his chair, but he did. Artemis didn’t jump at much (and she certainly didn’t jump at that), but it was the way her eyebrows shot up, how her entire body language changed, that had Wally feel the slightest amount of shame. Not enough to stop him, however.

“Wally, I’m not trying to—”

“That’s what you all keep saying!” Oh, word vomit. That’s all that was coming up, alongside the out of body experience again. “And yet you all still wave your hands over me and don’t let me do _anything!_ ” It was so weird, standing above himself, _standing_ being the operative word. Looking at the height he was so used to, once upon a time, and just watching. He shouldn’t have taken those sleeping pills the night before. It was doing something to his head (but it was the only way to sleep these days, as he was sure he could feel his legs again, and he didn’t want that).

“We’re just worried about you! You keep saying you’re alright but then you go and do something like this!”

“‘Like this’?! Like, what, catching a bus isn’t a normal thing for someone like me to do?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Artemis, it’s everything you’re not saying!” He can hear the whispers now, see the fingers pointing. “None of you will actually _talk_ to me and ask me how I’m going. The only person I’ve spoken to in the last month is some kid who hangs around my rehab centre, simply because he doesn’t treat me like I’m going to get hit by another semi any time soon.”

And that was the truth, the absolute truth. Jason was the only one who didn’t look at him in his chair and tell him that he couldn’t even catch a bus. Misplaced anger, Jason had said he had, and Wally had just laughed. Last week? Was it only last week when Wally was complaining that Iris had gotten so mad that he had tried to reach up to get a glass from one of the overhead cabinets, and how she had even set out some in a drawer _specifically for him_. There had also been something from Jason about how they really do care about him, but Wally hadn’t really listened. After that talk, he could laugh about how he had his own series of cabinets and drawers. Naturally in a week it had escalated to not being able to catch a bus.

“Do you want to talk then, Wally? Will that make you feel better?” Any other time of year, Wally knew that Artemis simply lacked a certain level of social graces. She wasn’t being spiteful — she was clearly out of her depth. But Wally had a pile of ‘misplaced anger’, something he could hear being spoken in Jason’s voice, and she was in his line of fire.

“If I wanted to talk I’d go back to the fucking psychologist, like you all insist I do anyway, Artemis. Because I’m the crazy one here, right? I’m the one _losing my mind_.”

All the colour drained from Artemis’ face, and Wally knew he had hit a sore point. Pride, not the kind of pride he’d felt from actually manoeuvring himself on a bus, but definitely pride, filled him. Made him spiteful. “Yeah, I heard the phone call, Artemis. Talking to your friend ‘Z’ or whoever."

“Wally, it wasn't about you—”

“Sure it wasn’t.” Oddly calm, that’s how he’d describe himself at that moment. But that was it. He’d had it. With a sigh, Wally puts his hands back on the wheels, gripping the rubber. “I was hoping to come here, and pull you out of your books, and go to that really pretentious pizza place down the road.”

Artemis doesn’t say anything, and Wally doesn’t blame her. Not really. Backing up, Wally gave her one more look over. Takes into how she was gripping the arm of her bag a little too tight, how she looked like she hadn’t slept in days already, only a couple of months into classes. Maybe he was being unfair, and he’d probably phone her in a week and apologise, but not right now. Not with the argument with Iris still fresh on his mind, and how they didn’t even trust him in his own anymore. “I’m going. Have a good day, Artemis.”

He's only a few feet away when Artemis finally speaks up. “Talk to Bart. Please just… Wally, if you do one thing for me, _talk_ to him. He needs you.”

Wally isn’t given an opportunity to ask anything, to turn around, as Artemis is already walking off, crossing the lawns. There was his old friends, shame and sadness, filling him up as he watched potentially his only friend in Gotham walk away from him. God, it was so exhausting, bouncing between feelings. Maybe he would go back, if only to get something to flatten him out. Fingers massaging his temples, he remembered his promise to Linda, and wondered if it was worth breaking that just to get everything to settle.

And as much as he wanted to stay out until late, if only to make Iris sweat some more, he was done. Far too tired and done, coming to a halt at the bus stop. Phone, he needed his phone, he’d call ahead, maybe swing past Barry’s new job and see if he wanted to go out somewhere and talk for a while. Turning in his chair to get to his backpack, hands pulling open pockets, when he notices he wasn’t alone at the shelter. Big sunglasses, far too absorbed in his phone, an unfortunate lack of distinguishable hair, but it was that smile that Wally recognised. 

“It seems to be my lucky day, running into all kinds of crazy.” This was one of those times that Wally was thankful for saying what he thought, as it definitely got the guy in the bus shelter to start, looking up a little too fast. Sun setting, and he had sunglasses on. Deja vu was determined not to let Wally live his life in peace.

“Uh, are you talking to me?” A vaguely familiar sentence, maybe a few words off. Jason said that to him too. Maybe. Days were still blurring together as he still hadn’t found anything particularly entertaining to do in between Bart’s homework. Made a mental note to encourage Bart to do something vaguely sporty to give him a reason to go out on the weekends.

“No, no, sorry, definitely the imaginary guy with the sunglasses beside you.”

The guy was at least indulging him, looking beside to see that he was in fact, definitely alone. “Ah, the imaginary friend thing. Smooth, by the way.”

It’s that smile when he looks back that has Wally realise. He’s the crazy one. Not a great first impression either, but he was full out of good first impressions — it was the wheelchair that definitely hurt him there. Lowering his hands he hadn’t even noticed he’d raised, Wally didn't know what to say next. Before the accident, he’d be all over conversation. Hell, even before this entire day and running headfirst into his family and only friend in Gotham, he would know what to say. If he was with Jason, at least he could say something that wouldn’t make him out to be a total idiot. But, now, not so much.

“Sorry, I’m… I’m tired.”

Laughter, light, and nothing like his brother’s. What was his name again? “I can see that. Sorry if I’m keeping you up.”

Wally can at least manage a snort, as he pulls his phone out finally, twisting back as quickly as he can. His thumb hovers over Barry’s name, before he presses it, typing out a quick message. Stops over the send button. “So, is your name really John?” Can’t help the curiosity, that has him dim his screen. Something in the way Jason had said his name repeatedly said otherwise. Foot in mouth was just asking for that question to come up.

“Apart from announcing that you talk to imaginary people, do you always ask what people’s names are?” At least _John_ seemed unperturbed by the question, if anything, pocketing his own phone and leaning back. Still not making a move to remove his glasses, but Wally had learnt not to take that to heart. 

“I make a habit of it. A newfound one, since being toppled over at a carnival.”

“Ouch, low-blow. My brother is still beating himself up over that, in case you were wondering.”

“Yeah, your other brother mentioned the same thing the other day.”

Finally, he gets something out of John that wasn’t just simple humour. An actual emotion that Wally latches onto — definite interest coupled with idle confusion. “‘Other brother’? Now, I’m a little — who have you been speaking to?”

The inevitable question. Not that he had ever expected to run into another fifth of the Sunglasses Cult, Wally hadn’t worked out a contingency plan just in case. His little talks with Jason were the only things keeping him sane for the days in between. He’d been able to work out that it was a big family, and there were a lot of problems. But two fifths of the family allegedly lived out of Gotham, thoroughly reducing his chances of running into anyone else. Apparently.

Next time he ran into Jason, he would like to make sure which two fifth lived out of town. Just to make sure.

“Doesn't matter. Forget I said anything.”

“Sure.”

Awkward silence. Wally wished the bus would just come sooner, so he could happily wheel off into the sunset and forget this happened. Letting his head fall back, Wally squeezed his eyes shut, imagining this conversation going a little differently. Or having an actual conversation that doesn’t end with him yelling, or accusing someone of talking about him, or making an ass out of himself. Or all of the above. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to just—” Wally starts the apology quickly, pushing himself to sit forward, sliding his eyes across to try to keep John’s, when he’s interrupted. 

“You wanna do something?”

“ _What_?”

“Well, you look like you definitely don’t want to go wherever you’re going… and I may have overheard what happened back in the university."

“Of course you heard.”

“I think everyone heard.”

A dull laugh leaves Wally, and he drops his head. “I do like attention.”

“I can see that.”

“So, is that a ‘yes’?”

Blinking, Wally turns a little more. “Wait, you were actually being serious?” Absolute confusion coloured him, and Wally could feel his cheeks warm. He had thought John was just humouring him, being polite, making conversation to lessen the awkwardness of waiting for a bus. Nothing in Wally had actually thought he would get asked anywhere. And, to be fair, he had actually thought his day would get far, far worse, before it got better — arguing with Artemis was not something he considered to be the lowest point of the day, but some universal karma clearly thought it was. 

John, for his part, seemed at least slightly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t be the first stranger I’ve asked out to dinner, trust me.”

“Dunno about that… stranger danger basically dictates weirdos in sunglasses linger around bus stops, waiting for the vulnerable.” Raising a brow as he finishes, Wally flourished a hand towards himself. “I am quite vulnerable.”

“Are you turning me down, then?” Still nothing but honest amusement. Too bad Wally wasn’t able to see his eyes, to fully understand. What else was he showing, despite a moderate amount of humour and likely understanding. Or just patience. Wally was willing to put money on John having an unholy amount of patience.

“Is your name even John?” A lingering thought, Jason’s voice in the back of his mind. 

John lets his head drop, and he bounces a little, as if trying to work out a reasonable answer. Something which did very little to inspire any confidence in Wally. Despite the ruddiness in his cheeks, of yet another stranger going out of their way to make him feel better, there was still that hesitation in him. That concern that home was the safest place for him, that Iris and Barry and Bart and Artemis were right. He wasn’t ready to go out, wasn’t ready to be his own person. 

And yet Wally thought he was. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Just makes it easier to write a ‘Dear John’ letter in the future, right?”

A snort, followed by laughter, hidden by a hand, as John repeats Wally’s statement of a ‘Dear John’ letter between gulps of air. “That has to be one of the worst comments about my name I’ve ever received.”

“You’ll get used to it. When you get pizza in me, I promise to come up with some more.”

“I’m holding you to that.” With that, John pushes himself up to stand, and Wally knew that if he was standing, he would be taller, almost comfortably so. Made him miss towering over people, but he smothered that feeling as John shuffled around him, 

pulling out his phone once more. “So, apparently if we take a left up here, we can get to this pizza this. It’s new.”

“Oh, not a chain? You spoil me. But I think I know the one you’re talking about. It has a really pretentious name, right?”

“Uh yeah. I wouldn’t say that ‘Titans’ is a pretentious name for a pizza place, though.”

“When they boast the largest pizzas in Gotham and have windows in the shape of a ’T’, yeah, it’s kind of pretentious.”

“You are definitely buying your own after that. And you’re even going to shout me a drink.”

With a laugh, Wally pushes on, feeling a bit lighter, a little bit better. As he wheeled himself away from the university, in the opposite direction of his home, Wally could admit that it was like leaving behind the dark day. Even if his joking about stranger danger was still rampant in his mind, making his grip on the wheels slip just a little, when John turns back, giving him a smile that was just a little softer than Jason’s, he wasn’t so worried. It was familiar that smile, and settled something in Wally he couldn’t put his finger on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jazz hands


	5. Chapter 5

_“Feel free to call me anytime. I normally just stare at my computer and pretend to write reports most of the day.”_

_“I might take you up on that offer. Might make you regret it, but your bad for offering.”_

It’s the buzzing of his phone that gets him. An alarm, probably the third or fourth one in the space of five minutes. Wally stopped counting after the first if he were being honest. As he reaches for his phone once again, squinting at the time (still got an hour till the session, he muses), he remembers his conversation from the other night. With John, the one who even got the honour of being called _Dear John_ in his phone, much to the male’s amusement. Then, he had cited once more that each text could be like a goodbye letter, and John had commented on his reading.

“Nah, I watch a lot of chick flicks,” Wally had laughed. “Valentine movies are the ones that really get me.”

Wally pushes himself up, rubbing his face again. Phone abandoned, next three alarms switched off. When he’d made it home, Iris had apologised, maybe a little too much, and Wally had hugged her, sorry. Really sorry, that he’d messed up again — _again_ , that was the worst part. Talking with John had put a few things into perspective, especially about people reacting.

“My friend got shot during a home invasion,” he had said. “It’s easier to talk about now. But at the time… I didn’t want to walk on eggshells around her, but I did. I messed up a lot.” John hadn’t looked up at him, until he gave a sigh. “She’s in that chair, and those first few months I smothered her. Surprised she didn’t punch me below the belt a few times for it.”

“And then what?” Wally had pushed, with a look off to the side. That conversation had irked him, just a bit. The tone that John spoke with.

“I realised she wasn’t there to be smothered. It’s not a ‘she’s a big girl’ sort of thing… she was— _is—_ a lot stronger than I give her credit for.”

Strength, that was what John had pushed. That it’ll take some time for his family to realise. Wally just wanted it to be sooner rather than later. Maybe he was being a brat about it, and maybe some independence wouldn’t hurt. His phone buzzed once more, a missed alarm, and Wally missed the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

But he hears the voice, muffled by his door. “Wally, are you up yet?”

“Yeah, I am—wait, _Bart_?”

Throwing the sheet off, Wally gropes for his chair, sliding into it with a practiced ease. Wheels himself towards the door, and swears to all hell if he’s stuck in the chair he’s never getting a house with doors that swing inwards again. With another grumble, Wally rolls into the lounge room, ready to launch into a lecture that, yes, Bart, school actually does require attendance no matter how good your grades are, before he spots the lump on the couch. Too many blankets for this time of year, and a few sniffles already.

Wally had to admit, in the last few months, he’d seen Bart cry more than he ever had his entire life. And that was saying something, considering the kid had put up with Wally at his _worst_ , long before he was paralysed. Worrying his lower lip, Wally wheeled up to the side of the couch, remembering that Bart never once cried whenever Wally called him all those names, left him out of every little thing, ignored his presence at his aunt and uncle’s house for years. And now, Bart was just a mop of red hair peeking out of the blankets, probably wiping at his eyes.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” An answer, that came too quick, too flat. Embarrassment, probably. Maybe Bart had hoped Wally would’ve gone to the rehab centre early. 

“Mmm, well, too bad, I’m not moving.” With some manoeuvring, he managed to secure a spot on the end of the couch. Less than an hour till his session. Ass firmly planted on what little space was provided at the end of the couch, Wally didn’t mind so much. If he was late, he’d cop the stink eye from that one nurse who had it out for him, and that would be the end of it. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“And when did you turn back into a four year old?”

All he receives is silence, and it takes Wally a moment to realise that maybe insulting Bart wasn’t the best way to go. Vaguely, he remembered Artemis, outright demanding he talks to Bart, but he didn’t know where to start. What did she know that he didn’t? Did it have something to do with the accident? Wally knew that no matter what he said, Bart wouldn’t be able to quite move on. Didn’t help he had to have a knee replacement, too, but that was a subject Wally wasn’t sure how to approach. Not just yet. Legs were still a tender topic in the household.

“Bart, I’m getting a little bit worried over here.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just go already.”

Nudging Bart’s head with his elbow, Wally keeps up the little jabs. Eventually, he manages to get an arm to swat at him, followed by a ruddy face, slightly swollen eyes. With a slight smile, Wally ruffles Bart’s hair. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re _really_ annoying?”

Wally shrugs. “I get that a lot. Now, you gonna tell me what happened?”

Bart is slow to sit up, slow to rub at his eyes. Knee is still a little funny, and Wally can see the wince in his face as he twists a little too far. Reminded him he was still a little too wrapped up in himself. “Want some ice for your knee?” Swelling hadn’t gone down just yet, and as Bart shifted to sit upright, he shook his head.

Just as Wally was about to comment again, he’s caught off guard with a sigh. Bart lets his head fall against the back of the couch, simply staring up at the ceiling, far too flat to make Wally feel comfortable. In the back of his mind, Wally remembered that he had less than an hour to get to his session. But Bart then rolled over to him, mindful of his knee, head against Wally’s shoulder. That simple action took Wally completely by surprise, and he must have reacted poorly enough for Bart to look up at him. “You’re going to be late,” he says, plainly, as if he could easily overlook just how puffy his eyes were.

“Doesn’t matter. Talk to me.”

Levelled with a calm stare from Bart, Wally felt momentarily perturbed that his younger cousin possessed such a look. He could remember summers, having Bart attack him with water guns if he wasn’t careful, and a few winters of being absolutely run around. When had he gotten so mature? Wally thinks, and leans his head against Bart’s as his gaze drops down. Spies the stitches on Bart’s right knee, redness almost completely gone, save for where he’d been lying on it. Wally tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but he can't quite manage it.

“Wally?”

“Y-yeah?” Damn, he hoped the stutter wasn't obvious.

Bart doesn't comment on it, just continues to stare at his nails, slightly chipped at the top, skin of his knuckles rubbed a little too raw. He’d been fighting, a strange thing for Bart to do. “You should go to your session.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine. Promise.” A smile, that seemed so odd on Bart’s face, appears. Far too mature, enough to sufficiently weird Wally out.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Go, you’re gonna be late.”

And he sounded so adult-like, that Wally had to nudge him for it. But he’s helped into his chair, seen to the door. Already called a cab, still that one step ahead of Wally, even if they were both the way they were. Waiting on the front steps, Wally wasn’t used to the silence from Bart, missed the chatter — be it awkwardly filled silences or how Bart had to talk about his friends, and how he missed Max’s place, and in between staying at Barry and Iris’ on weekends, he was at Jay and Joan’s Monday through Friday for middle school. As if Wally hadn’t known every little detail about his cousin. At least Bart had stopped reminding him it was still ‘once removed’ relation, even if when they were younger Wally was always sure to bring it up.

When the cab pulls up, and as Wally is sliding into the back, he realises something. “Have you gone to your own sessions?” A pointed look at his knee. Had the scars not really been on show, had Wally not seen him wince earlier, he might have forgotten entirely. At the carnival, Bart had been practically running around, making it so easy to forget he had been injured too.

“Physio said I was doing really well. No need.”

Wally squints, not quite believing him. But he would never know the truth (at least not yet, he tells himself. Bart will tell him soon enough, surely). “Keep up your exercises.”

Finally, Bart laughs, not the laugh of a hyper-excited twelve year old who was _so glad_ he got to spend Christmas at Barry’s this year, but of the kid who was kind of lost, too. Wally smiles, and gives Bart’s hand a squeeze before he’s the rest of the way in the car. Giving the address, Wally waves as Bart enters the house, and they’re off, turning a corner and another, until his house is out of sight.

Settling back, Wally was content to stare out the window. He happened to have a chatty driver this time. Talking about weather, sports (Wally hadn’t kept up with much, but he knew the Gotham Knights were _big_ ), a brief mention of the move. Could see the cab driver look in the rearview mirror at his legs, and Wally taps idly at his thighs. “Car accident,” he answers, the unasked question. Everyone always wanted to know the cause. Easier to tell them it was a car accident, than the real cause. Even he wasn’t quite ready to face the real cause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is what he gets, not unexpected, and not wholly appreciated. But he smiles, a slight pinch at the corner of his mouth, and thanks the driver. Clearly, he was pleased with himself, and stilled the questions for the moment.

All the same, Wally was back to staring out the window. Watching Gotham wind by. Even if he had seen the scenery enough times by now, it always got him how much darker the streets were than Central. Maybe it was the constant amount of abnormal cloud cover, hiding away the sun. Giving the corners a bit more of an edge than necessary. Wally also considered he was reading into it a little more than he should’ve, but that homesickness hadn’t left him just yet, and he watched another boarded up theatre pass by.

Before the move, Wally had read up on the place. Heard all about it from Artemis, whenever she was in a mood to rant. She spat over Gotham, and more than once made it seem like she was convinced it was haunted (which Wally always argued was _highly_ unlikely). Apparently crime wasn’t as bad as it used to be — Artemis had always given a half sort of shrug whenever Wally tried to bring up the crime rate. All he was told that it was a significant improvement from what he had read months ago. Shooting in the Commissioner’s own house. Mayor dead. Bomb exploding the monorail line. Neatly packed up and put on the back burner from what he had seen in the papers. Encouraging to say the least.

Wally could understand why Iris was just as hesitant to move, even if Barry had said they had the best rehabilitation centre in the _world_ there. Jokingly, he had said it might have had to do with the sheer amount of violence. He had heard his aunt and uncle argue that night like he was back to being thirteen, and they were arguing about whether to let him go back to his parents. Didn’t help they had to start their careers from scratch again. Wally was getting close to falling down the rabbit hole again, thinking and overthinking the situation. But he had to, to make sense of it all. To feel bad that if he hadn’t let that day run its course, they wouldn’t be cooped up in Gotham City, not quite starting fresh. If he could, Wally knew he would redo that day over in a heartbeat.

“We’re here, kid.”

“Oh, thanks.”

As the cab driver helped set up his chair, Wally watched over his shoulder. He was so late, but it was never like anyone in his family was on time anyway. Something of a long running joke, one that he had repeated to him multiple times in high school too. No matter if he was the fastest on the track, he was still the last to arrive. A fond smile settles on his lips, and he tips a bit more than usual before he rolls away. The guy was nice, at least. Made his day seem a little better. 

Under the wheels, leaves and rocks crackle, and Wally almost wishes he would get a flat. Delay his session further. Gritting his teeth, despite his gut telling him to give up, he swore he wouldn’t. Not again. Didn’t want to upset Iris any further than he already had. 

In his head, Wally makes a to-do list for when he got home. He’d phone up Linda, hoping she was still in Keystone at least. Despite her talking about how she was going to move to Central for a bigger job, whether or not it happened, Wally didn’t know. Well, he _hadn’t_ made a point of knowing. Ah, there was his dark mood again, knowing he left everyone behind. Just when he had gotten settled into Keystone too, only visiting Central for a bit, before taking the rest of his furniture with him. Only meant to be a family dinner, a farewell and good luck. How did it end up like that?

“Better hope the wind doesn’t change — especially not with a face like that.”

Blinking, Wally looked over to his left, just as he was drawing near the doors. There was nothing to  help the grin that breaks over his lips, as he spies Jason walking closer (distinctly smoke free, he notices). Beside him is a girl, barely reaching his shoulders, who Wally assumes is the sister he talked about sometimes. “Fancy meeting you here,” he comments, rolls back, away from the door. They could wait a bit longer.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, people might talk.” Jason does a mock gasp, that has Wally’s grin spread wider. Definitely lightened up since they first started talking. His sister looks over at him, somewhat curiously, as if she noticed a change too. Perceptive, Wally noted, filing that information away for later. Something to consider when he had nothing better to do.

Watching as Jason received a nudge in the arm, he gives an “alright, _alright_ ,” before turning back. Sucks in some air deeply, like introductions were not part of his repertoire of talking to strangers. Considering how long it had taken Wally to actually get a proper name out of the kid, Wally knew that to be somewhat true. “Wally, this is Cassandra, my sister. Cass, this is Wally. We met at the carnival a few weeks back, remember?”

And Cassandra _smiles_. Vaguely, Wally recalled the reason why Cassandra was at the clinic, and it’s not apparent until she speaks, tongue heavy, catching on every third word. “A pleasure to meet you,” she says. If Wally hadn’t known what to look for, he couldn’t tell, didn’t quite catch the lisp that hung on her words. There was something in her face, as she spoke, that said far more. Jason smiled at her too, gently, an expression Wally hadn’t seen before. The closest thing Wally could put to it was pride, and that had him smiling too.

From what Wally had gathered about the Waynes in his time stuck in front of a computer at the hospital, they were quite a large family, apparently the head fond of taking in children. Not always adopting, but he had read up on a few special cases. There was never much on any daughters, a few photos here and there, mostly about the sons (apparently, one of them was shot during a speech at the Wayne tower a year ago). But Wally had no doubt in his mind, watching as Cassandra beamed at him, that she was the apple of her father’s eye. 

“Good to finally meet you too, Cassandra. Jason told me a lot about you,” Wally says with a wink, that has Cassandra turn to Jason, brows raised, as he holds up his hands.

“Only good things!” Jason promises, as if worried she might flatten him. Maybe she was able to. Wally wouldn’t know, but he was amused by the instant reaction. 

“Better be good things.” Had it not been for the smile, Wally might’ve thought it to be an outright threat. But it’s a simple tease, as she’s reaching to pull at the arm of Jason’s jacket, the action surprisingly fond. 

Jason mumbles, “back off,” but there’s no weight. Swatting her hand away when she goes to pull at him again, he checks the time on his phone. “We’re running late, Cass. If B finds out, we’ll cop it later.”

“Dad won’t mind.”

A scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know B.”

Wally watches the exchange, noting that he was indeed running later than he had intended, and he rolls back over the pressure mat. Automatic doors slide open, and he leads the way in. As if summoned, his nurse simply looks down at him a little more frustrated than usual. Looking over his shoulder, he notices Jason and Cassandra had followed. “I’m going to head off,” he mentions, as his nurse says something else. “I’ll catch you after?”

Watching as Jason looks over at Cassandra, who nodded rather enthusiastically, Wally received a shrug. “Sure, sounds good.” It was kind of amusing, how he tried to appear disinterested. A complete opposite to Bart, who _used_ to struggle to hide his excitement of something, if he didn’t outright deny it (but that in itself was a rarity). Jason and Bart would have been somewhat close in age, Wally thought, as he caught Jason smiling at Cassandra again, seemingly far younger than he appeared. 

“I’ll talk to you later.” 

“We’ll be here,” Cassandra says, waving as Wally was wheeled off. Waving back, he can’t stop the smile, so dearly infectious. He could understand why Jason had mentioned what he had about her, about how she was so good at reading a room, getting the atmosphere. Simply, she had smiled, and Wally had felt himself lighten, just a fraction, just enough, as he smiled back.

Something about that family, he thinks, as he’s pulled up to stand, once he’s safely in the room. Arms on the bars, Wally doesn’t get anywhere, but its the action of standing itself, that gives him some hope. One of the physical therapists, beside him, is far too encouraging, it almost passes on to grating. But Wally ignores it, tries to move his foot, leg, even a twitch in the knee. Something to make this seem worthwhile.

When he’s given a break, after five minutes if _nothing_ , Wally realises something. He hadn’t told Jason he had met his older brother the other day. Leaning back against the wall, Wally considered how to bring it up, and wondered if it was worth the extra drama.

“Wally, did you want to try again? Or would you just prefer stretching for the next ten minutes?”

Water bottle down, Wally manages a smile at the therapist. Already exhausted, not enough time to think about Wayne family drama. “Help me on the bars again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so obv bart doesn't quite get kneecapped in this, but he's still injured... better than wally tho
> 
> also, this will be containing characters and relationships from the comics, not just the yj cartoon (i added a few more tags in and stuff to kind of explain that). as it develops, more ppl will obv appear, or be mentioned in passing. even tho dcu is... _huge_... w that stuff, people will be there.
> 
> also, i'll keep going a few more chapters before i start posting the jason story. and debating throwing the little ficlets I've written for other characters into a multi chap thing here too (some of them are just simply short, others are a bit longer). feel free to hmu on tumblr regarding anything (or just a simple chat. i'm also taking fic reqs).
> 
> thank you for continuing to read!


	6. Chapter 6

Wally decides he really shouldn’t listen to strangers so enthusiastically, when he’s sitting on his bed, phone in hand. Not that he could blame them entirely, even if they were very convincing and definitely good at putting up a solid argument. Honestly, he couldn’t really see much point in arguing against what they were laying down, beyond some very childish reasoning. This was why he didn’t like being an adult, surrounded by other adults — they were too good at what they did, while he was still struggling.

Scrolling through his message history, Wally can’t help the little smile. Linda was so good to him, always. All the years they’d known each other, she’d supported every little aspect of his life, and he’d done the same for her. Wally met her when he was still in university, long after Artemis had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Helped her with a report on some haunted house during one of his trips to Keystone to scope the physics centres out there. They’d crashed into each other, and Wally had never felt such an intense love as he had for her. 

But it’s like his legs twitch, to remind him where he was, and he doesn’t know if he should. Staring at Linda’s name on his phone, Wally wasn’t sure what to name the sudden, suffocating fear, but it wasn’t unlike a fear of falling. Of going in headfirst, unable to truly comprehend the outcome. And he knows he shouldn't feel this way (it was _Linda_ ), but Wally couldn’t help it. He had broken her heart, because he didn’t want her to suffer with him. God, the more he rolled that thought around in his head, the more Wally realised just how _stupid_ it sounded.

Linda was the strongest person he had ever known, and Wally was so afraid that he wouldn’t be enough for her without his legs. Like he wasn’t good enough, and had left her.

Despite John telling him that people had left their partners for less, he still had the audacity to call it a ‘dick move’. Wally had laughed at that, regardless. There was something about John, just this sense of ease, that could make Wally forget, for one whole moment, that he wasn’t where he was. Who he was. Yet it doesn’t stop him from getting home and lingering on what ifs and could have beens, with Linda’s name highlighted in his phone. Begging him to call her, to talk. To explain. Not just pull the same old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shit she’d heard from the boyfriends before he came along. Wally had never wanted to be _that_ guy, and he had been, but worse. Far, far worse.

If Linda didn’t forgive him, Wally knew he wouldn’t mind. Honestly, he expected everything to be thrown back at him, because Linda was nothing if not terrifying when pissed off, and Wally could easily admit that was something that made him fall for her. Just how livid and passionate she was all at once, when she had been pointing a finger at that policeman who had threatened to throw them into jail over trespassing in an abandoned house. Linda had been Wally’s fell-in-love-at-first-sight kind of woman, the one he wrote home about. Barry had some cheesy name for what Iris meant to him, something that he never quite understood, not until he met Linda. Then everything seemed to click into place. 

“Come on, West, man the fuck up,” he murmurs. Last chance he got until Bart came home. Barry was back in Keystone, or Central, or even Metropolis for all Wally knew. Iris had landed herself a job, busy busy busy. Most days it was just him and Bart, and that ever growing silence. Since Bart had begun to hole himself back up in his room the moment he got home, Wally had never felt more alone.

Wally closes his eyes and hits _dial_ , holding the phone to his ear as it rung. Maybe she blocked his number — Wally would block his number. Dick move. It still pulled a smile to his face, even if he agreed. God, he agreed so much. She wouldn’t answer, Linda was too smart to get into the emotional mess that was Wallace Rudolph West once again and —

_“Wally?”_

“Linda,” he sighs, releasing a breath of air he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. If he could move his legs, Wally knows he would’ve been tapping his feet. _Nerves_. There are fires down his legs, he thinks, like his body remembers that nervous reaction he’d always had, Linda’s voice in the back of his mind telling him he always looked like he was ready to run. But where, he had asked her one time, and she had just smiled like it was some secret he would never be let in on.

 _“Are you okay? Is everything alright_?” 

Of course she would ask about him first. It was just so like her to forget what he said (she’d bring it up later, Wally knew that much), and ask how he was. Eyes fall down to his legs — that’s probably why she’s asking, duh, Wally. He can’t fight the grin at her voice. “I’m good. I’m great. How… how are you?”

Linda takes a sharp breath, and he hears a faint “ _give me a moment_ ”, possibly to someone on the other side of the line. A creeping anxiety makes him run a little colder than usual, that _of course_ he was interrupting her. By now, she would have moved on, made a life that didn’t involve him — and Wally wouldn’t blame her in the slightest. If anything, he actively encouraged her to just forget about him, and be someone else, someone better. 

Neither of them cried much, but Wally remembered the hospital. Casts and bandages, and Linda angry, frustrated, yelling through her tears as Wally broke it off. Dick move.

_“Still there?”_

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” God, he’s talking too fast, but Linda gives a small laugh, just like he remembered she always would.

_“It’s good to hear from you. I was going to call you the other day.”_

“Oh. I—” Wally doesn’t mean to cut himself off, but he clears his throat. His eyes were burning, and his chest felt incredibly tight. Don’t cry, he tells himself, don’t do it. “I’ve been meaning to call for a while now.”

His words drag out a number of possibilities, and Wally almost wants Linda to tell him that he should’ve have even considered it. Really, he wants her to get mad at him, and hang up and tell him to fuck off, but not necessarily in that order. John was the one who kind of opened his eyes to that, no, he wasn’t in the right state of mind after his accident, but yes, he was mildly out of line. Sucking at his teeth, Wally opened his mouth to speak again, just as Linda cut him off.

_“I miss you.”_

“… I miss you too.”

_“You coming home for the holidays?”_

“Dunno yet.” Wally drags a hand through his hair. His question can be left for later. “We haven’t really talked about it. Rehab has been… hard. Harder than what I thought it would be.”

 _“That’s understandable.”_ There’s that clinical tone of voice that Wally missed dearly. _“It would be good to see you.”_

“I wanna see you as well.” And he did, he truly did. But his mouth worked like a motor, and he tacked on a “I wanna see everyone, again,” as if some saving grace. Maybe even a slap in the face to both of them. Wally just wanted to punch himself out for it.

Linda’s laughing. Perhaps she caught the last bit wasn’t entirely intentional. _“Everyone misses you. And Barry and Iris, of course. Work’s been kind of slow since they all left.”_

Despite the stab of guilt, and the long look at his legs, Wally pushes on. “Yeah, Bart really wants to visit Max, and Jay and Joan. They’re thinking of just sending him over to visit when it’s holidays again.” That was something he had overhead, but Linda didn’t need to know he spent a lot of nights on the couch pretending to be asleep and hearing his aunt and uncle talk. It was the only way he was in on the going-ons, anyway. Whilst the delicate way Iris handled him had significantly dropped, she was still withholding information. Wally hadn’t bothered to press her about it recently. They’d get over that bridge, one day.

_“I was going to come up to Gotham, maybe in a few weeks, actually.”_

All the air gets sucked out of the room. “Wait, really?”

More chattering behind Linda, and Wally assumes she must have stepped out of a meeting. _“Yeah, work wants me to cover a conference, but I just thought—”_

“I wanna see you.” Wally doesn’t even breathe as he speaks, a rush of words, heart hammering in his ears. Floor swirling a bit, as he leans over enough to at least get his forehead somewhere near his knees (there’s an ache, maybe a phantom one, but it’s there in his hips), and he tells himself not to pass out now. At that exact moment, it would be an awfully bad time to faint.

_“Wally, I—”_

“Linda… what I said in the hospital was uncalled for.”

 _“You just came out of_ surgery _, Wally.”_

“Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have said all that.”

_“Wally…”_

Forcing himself to keep his mouth shut, should he provide anything more in the way of word vomit, Wally has to press the heel of his palm to his eye. A headache was starting again (they were getting more frequent). Would Linda think badly of him if he just happened to hang up on her now. “I’m sorry.” Voice cracking on the second syllable, Wally doesn’t let it stop him. “I’m so sorry, Linda.”

Voice grow louder, and he hears Linda hiss to someone. _“Wally, I’ve gotta go.”_

“I know.”

She lets out a frustrated noise, and he hears some more words. He knew it was a really bad time to ring her, and felt the guilt again, deep within him. _“When I get to Gotham, we’ll talk, alright?”_

“Yes,” Wally breathes out, yes, a million times yes. It was partway to forgiveness he didn’t deserve, but he’d take it. 

Linda seems to pause, just for a moment. As if she wanted to hang up, but then had a second thought. And finally, suddenly, _“Love you, Wally. I hope you know that.”_

Wally’s mouth is dry, and he swallows thickly. Feeling like his chest had suddenly caved in, and it wasn’t just guilt he was feeling, but an absolute yearning, he just barely manages a response. “Love you too, Linda.” I hope you know that, he adds, but can’t find his voice as the line goes dead. Phone falling beside him, bouncing off the bed onto the floor, Wally wraps his arms around himself; don’t cry, West, don’t do it.

Despite himself, he does let a few tears roll down his cheeks. Can’t help the little sniffle as he does so, at the dawning realisation there was hope. More than just hope, and forgiveness, and all those things that people on the television prattled on about. Moving on. Thumbs swiping at his eyes, Wally inhales deeply before looking up, only just noticing the door was slightly open.

“Bart?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Bart shuffles into sight, book clutched tightly to his chest. Still such a shock to see him like this, but Wally wisely chose not to comment again, as Bart limped the rest of the way in.

But that did have him interrupt, hand on the bed, as if readying to push himself up. Old habits die hard. “Did you hurt your leg again?” Despite Bart swearing up and down he had been doing his exercises, Wally had yet to actually see him perform them, and maybe it was just a stiffness setting in. He knew himself that the more time he had between sessions, the worse his back felt, the worse the strain on his shoulders.

Bart turned a little in the room, giving way to something Wally probably wasn’t supposed to see. With a frown, Wally does push himself up a little this time, holding himself just barely above the bed. Arm reaching out. “Bart, is that a bruise?”

“I fell.” A response that was far, _far_ too automatic. 

Wally isn’t sure how his face twists, but he hopes it reflects just how much he didn’t want to hear something like that. Whilst his own father never raised a hand against him, Wally had seen kids spew excuses like that all through school. And from what Max had told them all one Christmas, Bart had somehow rallied the school into a massive fight, and walked away unscathed. Sure, his little cousin was only just starting to fill out, and wasn’t on the scrappy side anymore, but Barry had made sure they all had some basic hand-to-hand under their belt during their teens. Better safe than sorry, he had said, pushing them into classes. 

Bart’s instincts weren’t always there, his flight trigger a little more happy than his fight one, some days. But he was, just before the accident, starting to get a little quicker. If Bart ‘fell’, as he was determined to be believed, then Wally hoped someone fell with him.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I know you’re clumsy, but you’re not that bad.”

“My iron is low. I bruise easy.”

“Bart!”

Despite the slight smile on Bart’s face, at the slight quip, it’s not genuine. Anything but. Wally runs hot and cold all at once, and his grip on the bed slips, focusing too much on that and not this. Tumbling forward, he knows he’s gonna bruise when he smacks his bedside table with his arm, and Wally manages to catch Bart’s t-shirt with a hand as he makes it the rest of the way down. Bart, having run from the door, is yelling. Nothing but sheer fear in his voice as he shakes Wally a little, volume rising.

“Shuddup, givin’ me a headache,” Wally grumbles, and wants to play it off. Except the floor had come up too fast, and was spinning up at him. His leg was twisted at an angle that should hurt, and Bart ignores the slaps to his hands to right himself. When he’s somewhat okay, as okay as he could be — sure he’s aching all over but not feeling it — Wally leans back. Slowly lowers himself to lie flat, staring up at his ceiling, noticing how empty it was.

Just made him miss his room in Barry and Iris’ house back in Central, with half a dozen glow in the dark stickers still up there, others either covered by posters or now making their home on the floor. A fan with one bent blade, and lots of beads and charms hanging from hooks, gifts from family who travel. Missed his home back in Keystone, his two bedroom apartment, walls almost all a lovely shade of pea green. An entire wall covered in photos, some signed by friends, others just in memory of. Wally had a moment of wondering if rent was still being taken out of his account, when Bart lies down beside him.

Inhaling deeply, Wally closes his eyes. Nudges Bart lightly, until he sits up enough for Wally to get his arm under his head. With some coaxing, Bart rests his head on Wally’s shoulder, like they used to in the few times Wally found him tolerable as a kid, and it was getting late at night when he was on baby-sitting duty. Running his fingers through Bart’s hair, Wally can’t help the little smile. It was a bad day for nostalgia.

“I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

Bart is quiet for a long time, almost convincing Wally that he had fallen asleep, before he receives a quiet reply. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Both of them fall quiet again, Wally feeling his arm go numb, Bart’s breathing evening out. 

“I rang Linda today.” He receives a small grunt — Bart was only just with him now, but that didn’t deter him. “She said she loves me, still. After what I said. What I did.”

“What didya say back?” Reply muffled by Wally’s shirt, it takes a moment to work out what Bart said, before Wally smiled sadly.

“I said I loved her back. I just… I dunno if I do. I don’t know what I’m feeling most days.”

“So tell her that.”

With a snort, Wally shakes Bart. “Are you giving me romantic advice, Mr Allen?”

It’s the look on Bart’s face that has Wally bark out a laugh, something very pointed. “You have no idea when it comes to romance, Wally.”

“I liked you better when you were falling asleep.”

Bart’s turn to snort, and he presses his face down once more. “Trying to, but someone keeps talking.”

Laughter shaking his chest, eventually Wally quietens down. Fingers slide to Bart’s shoulder, tapping out a rhythm there for a song he couldn’t think the title of, before he speaks up again. “She’s coming to Gotham soon.”

“So are your parents.” Oh, shit, Wally almost forgot. That was happening within the next week, a quick stretch of the neck to check his calendar told him. Bart had, quite hilarious, listed the date as ‘D-Day’ on the calendar in the kitchen, and Iris hadn’t actually made a move to change it. Maybe she thought this was a bad idea too. 

Wally hummed. “Maybe we should go out of town for a while. Hideout.”

“I have a friend with a,” pause, yawn, “house on an island. Far, far away.”

“Ooh, a friend, huh?” Wally grins, despite himself. “Can I meet them?”

“Maybe. Do you think Grandma would let me bring hi—them along?” 

Catching the slip up, Wally doesn’t push it. But gives a shrug. “Probably.” He saw no reason not to have a friend of Bart’s there, considering it was solely his parents joining them. Bart’s father was still somewhere in Europe, and his mother, Wally had only found out, was playing single mum again in some other part of the country. And it wasn’t Bart who had told him this either — Iris had let it slip, when she’d gotten off the phone with her son, Don. Iris had looked very disappointed, very clearly upset, and if Bart knew, Wally wasn’t sure. He had a hunch his cousin did, but knowing his father, he was probably told through a letter. Or a postcard. Have fun in high school while I’m in Vegas, son, as per the last one. “Don’t see why not.”

Besides, it meant Bart was making friends again. Since leaving Max, Bart hadn’t quite connected with people. First in school, where Jay and Joan lived, and then again with Barry and Iris, before moving all the way out here. Wally eyes how Bart was drawing his bruised leg closer, subconsciously, and debated whether he should let slip in conversation what he thought was happening. It would be an absolute shitstorm, but at least Iris would get something done. Too hard to rely on Bart’s parents for anything other than being the genetic providers, some days.

Their family honestly sucked a little. Wally instinctively drew Bart closer, grateful he had his aunt, and uncle, and his shitty little cousin at the worst of times. But at least he had them. Opening his mouth once more, to ask about that brat of a cousin through Bart’s mother, see if he was still alive and survived his skinning at Barry’s hands, Wally looked down.

Slowly rising and falling, Bart had finally fallen asleep. Huffing a laugh, Wally squeezed Bart tight. They’d be alright, eventually. Surely, they deserved that sort of karmic treatment soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops late update but hello linda 
> 
> meloni and don in this are obv slightly younger than their comic counterparts, and iris and barry are obv slightly older to enable bart actually being present (as there is no superpowers or time travel in this haha) and being a teen
> 
> wally's impressions of don and meloni in this rly aren't that positive (for now... maybe). more will come to light soon... and who bart's friend is... and where 'john' is... i hope to update a lot quicker now that i have more free time haha


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